Ken no kokoro
by rosa suscipit
Summary: One moonlit night a small boy meets his fate. A story following Kenshin's journey from his rescue and adoption by Hiko Seijūrō onwards, basically covering the bits the Manga/Anime doesn't with a few little additions of my own. Story will contain Shoutacon (Not very graphic), violence and gore.


**AN: So, I said in a previous story (the only other Rurouni Kenshin fic I have written) that I would write a full length fic based upon the ideas I had in Wakashudo. Here is the prologue, I hope you enjoy reading, it covers a lot of what we already know about Kenshin's past but I wanted to give a little refresher before we get into the meat of the story. In this I intend to give a little more insight into the Master/Student relationship, how it develops and what causes Kenshin to be Kenshin, but also I want to give a deeper insight into the Mysterious Hiko Seijūrō (Yes, I am obsessed! Lol). Any feedback, so long as it is constructive, would be most welcome. (I must also warn that I have done a LOT of research into the Meiji era and the Bakumatsu and even the general feelings of that time so I will make some historical references.)**

Ken no kokoro

(Sword's Heart)

The Cicada sang, the melody forming a soothing ballad on the boys heart as he gazed at the worn old futon. The single roomed farmhouse was rank with the scent of sickness and death, the boy gazed down at the two people lying cold and pale on the futon, his head felt strange, his thoughts sluggish and almost incomprehensible. His mother, who had often smiled and held him when he had nightmares, was white in death, her skin looked like old parchment and her hair was brittle where once it had been soft. His father's normally large, thick hands were skeletal and frail looking as they lay unmoving upon the coverlets. "M-Mama?" The boy whispered, his little hand moved to touch her face but he quickly withdrew as if she would wake suddenly. He knew that both his parents had been very sick of late, he remembered the local doctor's grim face as he stood over them, he remembered the odd looks he got when he was down by the river playing and the strange sympathy of complete strangers.

It was disease, they said in hushed voices. It was a terrible blight upon their village, death was everywhere and they were in constant threat of attack from bandits. Those souls who were lost and forgotten or disgraced and master-less; Thieves and Rounin who had no way of even feeding themselves and so had to resort to desperate measures. The farmers worked hard yet their yields were barely enough to feed themselves, no one had the time, energy or money to look after one little orphan, and so, when the traders came the villagers handed him over, they gave him up to be sold as a slave to some wealthy master. What choice did such a small boy have but to follow them? What choice did he have but to leave behind everything that he had known and loved? As he took the first few steps away from his home he turned back to see his house standing like a shadow, silhouetted against the golden sun as it was swallowed by the horizon.

The train of people was small at first, the boy was alone in amongst a group of women. The girls ranged in age between fourteen and eighteen, from their talk he guessed that they were sold to the slavers by their families and they were to go to Kyoto's Hanamachi district. He was quiet as they walked, he didn't have much to say and he much preferred to listen. The girls' voices soon became familiar to him and one day, the third into their long march, one of them introduced herself. "My name is Kasumi, this is Akane and this is Sakura. What's your name, little boy?"

The boy looked at them, they had paused to rest and the slavers were sat around the camp fire gambling with dice. "My name is Shinta."

Kasumi smiled kindly at him and handed him a bowl of food. "You are the only boy here, Shinta, so we will look after you."

"Thank you, Kasumi-San."

"He's so polite!"

"Adorable!"

The girls giggled as Shinta ate, they talked to him and asked polite questions about his past and his home he answered as best he could until finally curling up and falling asleep. He woke that morning to find himself wrapped in friendly warmth, the night had been chill and so, to preserve heat, the girls had huddled around him. It was the first time in a while since Shinta had smiled but, as he lay there and watched the sun rise, he felt a tiny one grace his face.

The walk was long and arduous, the few men escorting them pulled the wagon and kept an eye out for bandits that may have been lurking off the path, Shinta became closer to the girls and spent his time talking softly with one or another of them. The days passed, each night he fell asleep rapidly due to the exhaustion of being on his small feet nearly all day. When the sun was high in sky they walked and walked, his little legs ached and sometimes his head too but he continued on because he nowhere to go and no one to go to. He was uncertain about what lay ahead for him in his future and so he tried to avoid thinking about it, when his parents had been alive he had helped his mother whenever he could in whatever way he could, he sometimes even got to help his father work on their small farm but now he was as lost as a stray leaf on the wind, but he was not alone.

The sun had long since set and yet the wagon train continued to move, Shinta could feel a tension in the few men guarding them, the very air itself seemed to hum with expectation. The girls kept close to him, unconsciously sensing the heavy air of suspicion surrounding them. They reached the beginning of some woodland that led in a steady incline up towards a mountain, the trees were full of shadows and held a terrible sense of foreboding deep within their dark braches. Every movement of the wind seemed to set their guards on edge, swords were drawn so they reflected the moonlight like thin moonbeams made solid. Shinta felt the tension in his chest, his feet dragged on the ground and his eyes began to dart everywhere, he tried to see beyond the shadow but that only seemed to make him feel worse. After half an hour of silence Sakura placed a hand upon his shoulder, she smiled and bent down to him. "Don't worry, Shinta-Kun, we are protected. Those men know how to use their weapons, I'm sure of it."

Shinta gazed at the nearest guard, he looked at his shaky grip and felt doubt gnaw at him. The guards looked as terrified as he felt. Instead of making her worry he forced a small smile and nodded, her fingers tightened briefly on his shoulder and she returned it.

That night haunted Shinta's nightmares for months to come, the screams of the men as they died, the pitiful begging of the girls, the ones who had given their very lives to preserve his. He remembered the weight of the sword in his small hands as he had tried to face down the Rounin, he remembered the hot splash of blood tears from the girls as they tried to shield him with their bodies. He remembered the flash of silver, the Rounin's screams and the moonlight falling across an impossibly tall figure, a man with a long white cloak and sharp, pitch black eyes. He would never forget the moment he first met him for as long as he lived, he forever held the memory of the man with a sword faster than lightening, the man who had seemed-at the time-like the physical embodiment of Hachiman himself.

"_I don't know why I happened by this place, be glad I did. You may hate these murderers but that will not bring your family back. Let your survival be your family's memorial."_

Those words echoed deep within the caverns of his mind, even as he watched this God-like figure turn his back and walk away he could do little more than stare in awe. When the man had left Shinta blinked slowly, there was blood on his cheek and hands, it was in his hair too but it didn't bother him as much as the sight of the dead women and men. The corpses gazed with terribly blank eyes at the sky, as if regretting their unfortunate deaths. Slowly, as if he were dreaming, Shinta stood on shaking knees; he swallowed a burning lump that had arisen in his throat as he stumbled over to the nearest body. It was Akame, her brightly coloured Kimono stained with blood that looked black in the darkness, he lifted a hand and brushed her hair from her eyes, a look of horror and grief had taken permanent residence there and abruptly Shinta's stomach tightened. He turned away and vomited violently into the bushes. When he had emptied the meagre contents of his stomach onto the floor he wiped a shaking hand across his mouth and took a deep breath, he drew in as much courage as he could before standing once again and walking in an odd, staggering line towards the carts. Inside one he found a shovel and set to digging.

He didn't know how long he toiled, he only concentrated on what he had to do. He dug a hole, he dragged over a body and rolled it into it, he closed the hole. He followed the same pattern, burying each person with fumbling fingers and aching limbs, he dragged, rolled and poked each heavy corpse towards the poor graves he made. Then he found sticks to use as grave markers, he marked each grave and, as he was near to collapse, he found three large stones which he placed at the head of those girls he was closest to. When his work was done he fell to his knees, he stared blankly at the stones as flashes of the previous night returned in horrific detail. And, before he knew it, the sun began to rise and throw everything into stark golden hues.

He did not expect the return of the man who had saved his life; he did not expect that man to rescue him once again…

_"__Man or woman, to attain buddhahood without knowing the taste of good sake is a crime. A drink of good sake is the least I can do. What is your name, boy?"_

_"__Shinta."_

_"__For Kenkaku, that's far too gentle. From now on, your name is to be 'Kenshin.' I shall also give you my most precious knowledge."_

He did not expect to become the student of one of the greatest swordsman of his time. He never expected to become 'Heart of Sword'.

END NOTE: 'Kenshin' in Rurouni Kenshin is written 'Heart of Sword', hence the title and the piece at the end of the chapter. :)


End file.
